


An autograph there?

by mistressterably



Category: Peter Capaldi - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Male Homosexuality, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 08:43:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4953832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressterably/pseuds/mistressterably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic prompt: Peter Capaldi in a gay bedroom sex fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An autograph there?

**Author's Note:**

> This is FICTION.   
> If Peter Capaldi RPF is not your thing don't read it.   
> If gay fic is not your thing don't read it.  
> If Peter Capaldi involved in gay sex is not your thing, definitely do NOT read this!
> 
> You have been warned.

Peter finally escaped the madness of the fans for the day and made his way wearily up to his floor in the elevator. He wished he hadn’t said yes to coming alone to this convention but Moff had had prior engagements and they were still currently between companions. Or at least the next companion hadn’t been announced yet. Speculation was out there and rampant but he’d been careful not to say anything during the Q&A’s. But now, he was on his own in Cleveland and he was very tired. 

There was only one other fellow in the elevator and he paid no attention to Peter which was perfectly fine for him. He would have hated to be in an elevator with a fan right now. To be forced to smile and be the ‘Doctor’ just a little bit longer would have drained him completely. He had asked for a good bottle of scotch be delivered to his room along with a dinner for one. Too focused on getting to his own room, Peter didn’t notice the other man getting off on the same floor and watching him intently. 

Carl, more than acutely aware of who he had been riding in the elevator with, had kept his cool. Instead, he waited behind a moment as Peter left the elevator and managed to learn what room he was staying in. Once he had made note of the room number, Carl returned to his own room two floors further up and was grinning the whole way like a Cheshire cat. His night could get a lot more exciting if he could pull this off.

It was about two hours later and Peter had finished his dinner and was resting in just his trousers and t-shirt. His glass of scotch was in one hand and his other held the tv remote control. When there was a knock on his room door he didn't really think it was anything more than just room service come to collect the empty dishes. 

With a slight groan of annoyance, Peter got up and unlatched the door. Holding it open, Peter just told the fellow to leave the desert behind but the rest could go. It took a few moments before Peter registered that the fellow hadn't moved to get the dishes but just stood there with a grin on his face.

'Mr. Capaldi, I don’t mean to be a bother but I just really wanted to ah...' Carl lost track of what he wanted to say. 

Peter groaned again. 'How did you find my room?' It was a fan.

'I was in the elevator with you earlier. Saw which room you went in.'Carl grinned. 'Didn’t expect that you'd actually let me in.'

'I don't make a habit of letting fans into my room.' Peter found it hard to be gracious under the circumstances but he wasn't going to begrudge the man an autograph. 'I'd just like to ask no photos this time, please. I'm not really dressed properly for one.'

'You look damn fine to me,sir' Carl blurted out as he looked Peter up and down. 

'Please, I don't like formalities. Peter is fine. What would you like autographed.' Peter turned away from the fellow to get one of the pens he kept handy in his pocket.

'Well... ’ Carl began to pull off his shirt over his head. 'My left breast would be cool.'

Peter turned back towards Carl and stood silently a moment. 'Are you serious, man?' He swallowed in surprise but found himself to be impressed at the man's naked chest. 

'Yeah. I'd live to get a tattoo done of your autograph on my chest. Could you do to Carl love Peter?'

Peter went white at the suggestion. 'I can't do that on your chest!'

'I'm not going to share it on twitter and I'm not asking for your last name. Just Peter is good. I'll know and that's all i give a shit about.' Carl ran a hand over his left chest. 'It's smooth enough. I made sure to shave this morning.'

Peter still couldn’t get his head round what he was being asked to do. 'You shaved? Your chest? For me? To sign it?'’

‘Yeah, I know. My friends bugged me about it but you just never know right? And now, here I am and my chest is smooth. Worked out didn’t it?’ Carl was grinning.

Peter shrugged lamely and felt himself flush slightly. This was worse than having a woman want him to sign her breast he thought. Not to mention more embarrassing as he felt himself getting aroused. Cold shower, think cold shower, Peter reminded himself. Steeling himself, he rested a hand on Carl’s chest, framing where he would sign his name as requested. ‘I can’t do the love part. I’ll just ah write All the best. Okay?’

‘C’mon man. You’re not doing your last name!’ Carl egged him on. ‘No one will believe me anyway if I were to say anything.’

Peter looked up at the younger man through his eyebrows and his silver hair. Sighing, Peter did as he had been asked. No one would ever believe it anyway. The black marker moved easily over the smooth skin of Carl’s chest. Standing back, Peter looked at the autograph. ‘You’re actually going to have that tattooed?’

‘Fucking hell, yes!’ Carl stepped around Peter to look in the mirror. ‘Fuck man, this is so.. fuck!’ His hand carefully touched the already dry ink. ‘This is so fucking amazing. Thanks!’ 

Peter couldn’t help but smile at the man’s obvious appreciation. Again, he couldn’t help admire the man’s physique. No. No one would believe that he had just done that. Simply because absolutely no one knew he had any sort of attraction to men. Aside from his wife and the very select few men he’d ever had sex with. Carl was still touching his skin near the autograph and Peter’s gaze was drawn to the man’s hard nipple. Unable to help himself, Peter licked his lips lightly. Drawing his gaze away from Carl, he capped the pen tightly and returned it to the desk. ‘Glad you … well.. ‘ Peter couldn’t really think of what he would say to the man. 

Carl turned to face Peter, still grinning from ear to ear. ‘Shit, the only thing better right now would be to kiss you, man!’ Carl put action to his words and planted a kiss right on Peter’s lips. 

More in surprise than anything else, Peter’s hands shot out and away as if he were re-enacting the scene when Missy kissed the Doctor. Only this time, when Carl began to press his tongue between Peter’s lips, Peter parted them and was quickly enjoying the younger man’s attentions. Unlike the scene in the show, Peter raised his hands to Carl’s head to hold him there. Cold shower thoughts weren’t going to help him now. Nothing was really. When Carl’s body began to press him against the large screen tv, Peter gave way. 

As Carl continued to kiss him, Peter closed his eyes and let himself go with it. His hands eagerly began to loosen the younger man’s belt. 

‘Fuck, man.’ Carl was practically panting against Peter’s neck as the Scotsman’s long fingers were unzipping his jeans. ‘You fucking shitting me?’ 

‘Carl, don’t.’ Peter felt himself breathing faster. ‘Just do this. Don’t think.’

‘Fuck,’ Carl rasped and tugged the knot of Peter’s bathrobe loose. His rough hands were covering Peter’s chest. ‘Fuck fuck fuck.’ He groaned as Peter was tugging his erection free from his jeans. ‘Fuck me.’ Peter looked at Carl and then shut him up with a hard, passionate kiss. Carl dragged the bathrobe off Peter’s shoulders and let it drop to the floor. It was Peter who took over now, pushing Carl back to the king sized bed and onto the covers. Dropping to his knees, Peter was between Carl’s legs with his hand pulling on the shaft, stroking him hard. Carl sat up on his elbows, watching as the silver haired man that he’d lusted after on television was jacking him off. ‘Ah, shit!’ He gasped as Peter went down on him. ‘Oh my fucking god.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the blow job he was getting. 

Peter bobbed up and down the length of Carl’s stiff member, licking and sucking with a long-denied hunger. At the first taste of Carl’s pre-cum, Peter was undoing his own trousers and masturbating himself roughly. When Carl placed both hand’s on Peter’s head, wanting him to suck him off faster Peter was more than willing to take him fast and deep. ‘Fuck, man. I’m fucking cumming!’ Carl grunted and felt his cock shoot his load in the older man’s mouth. Peter closed his eyes, drinking the younger man dry. 

Carl dropped back on the bed, spent for the moment. He watched as Peter stood up and was pulling Carl’s jeans off to throw them on the floor. Then, his fingers were doing the same to his own trousers. The patch of grey hair around Peter’s erection drew Carl like a moth to the flame. Moving to the end of the bed, Carl sat up and was soon giving Peter a blow job in return. His hand around the base as his tongue worked over the tip. As he came in Carl’s mouth, Peter’s hand dropped to his balls to massage them. 

Breathing hard, Peter ran his fingers through Carl’s hair. ‘Turn over.’ Peter’s voice was low but Carl heard him clearly. 

‘Fucking hell, man. This just gets fucking better.’ Carl turned onto his knees. Peter didn’t say anything in response but just rummaged blindly in his luggage for a moment to grab a handful of condoms. Tossing all but one of them on the bed, Peter rolled one onto his erection before spitting into his hand. Rubbing his cock with his wet hand, he massaged Carl’s hole with his thumb. Carl moaned as Peter’s finger pressed into him to tease him open. ‘Oh fuck, man. Just ram the fuck into me! Please!’ Carl looked back at Peter, the intent look on the Scotsman face as his hand steadied the head of his cock against Carl’s hole was making his own cock twitch. Peter slowly edged the engorged head of his erection into Carl. His lips parted at the sound of Carl’s moans. His feet shifted forward as he slid deeper into Carl, tilting his head back from the pleasure of the tight muscles around his shaft. Carl clutched the covers in his fists as Peter worked further inside him until he felt the Scotsman’s balls pressing against him. ‘Fuck..’ Carl groaned as Peter slid slowly back out and then began to thrust in and out hard. 

Peter’s eyes were closed tight, wanting to not see the man he was using only wanting to feel it. When he did cum, he cried out and slammed hard into Carl. Leaning forward, he rested his head between Carl’s shoulder blades until the younger man slid down to lie on the bed. Only then did Peter let his cock slip free from the tight grip of Carl’s ass. His hand shook slightly as he tugged the used condom off. With a groan, he fell to the bed beside the younger man, one hand resting on a naked ass cheek. 

After a few minutes, Carl lifted himself up off the bed and looked at Peter. The lean naked body of the older man was getting him hard again. Reaching down, he began to fondle Peter’s balls. Still spent from the frenzied sex, Peter just raised his head to look. ‘Carl,’ Peter groaned but didn’t try to stop him. 

‘My turn.’ Carl said and grabbed a condom. Peter arched an eyebrow at Carl but relaxed as the condom was being rolled down onto his own cock once again. ‘Thought you’d be a fucking top.’ Carl reached up and teased one of Peter’s nipples. ‘You’re not the first Scotsman I’ve fucked.’

Peter could only watch from half-closed eyes as Carl stroked him back into a full erection. With one hand holding Peter’s cock straight up, Carl lowered himself down. ‘Yeah, fuck your cock is good.’ Carl began to rock his hips, riding Peter’s erection. Peter’s long reach meant that he could still lay back and pull on Carl’s prick. ‘C’mon, old man. Shoot again for me.’ Carl growled at Peter as he ground against him. ‘Fuck, I’m gonna blow!’ Carl groaned as Peter tightened his grip on his cock and pumped him till his cum pooled on Peter’s stomach. Then, Peter was cumming himself, his hands letting go of Carl's cock to grab his chest, squeezing them as he arched his hips upwards inside Carl’s ass. 

Carl got up off Peter’s now flaccid cock, pulled off the condom and threw it way. ‘Fuck, that was just fucking unbelievable.’

Peter groaned and sat up. ‘Carl, no one will believe you.’

‘Fuck no.’ Carl rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘Thanks for the fuck though.’

‘You’re welcome. I don’t think anything else needs to be said, do you?’ Peter looked at him pointedly.

Carl grinned lopsidedly. ‘Naw, man.’ He ran a hand over the writing on his chest. ‘Not gonna breathe a word. May jack myself off a lot but won’t say a fucking word.’

Peter nodded and Carl just got his clothes on and quietly left. Carl had got what he wanted. That was enough.


End file.
